


snowflower

by mushroomherb



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: (mentioned) - Freeform, Angst and Feels, Boys Kissing, Canon Compliant, Confused Will Graham, Denial of Feelings, First Kiss, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is Whipped, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Neck Kissing, Non-Graphic Smut, They are Kissing, Unreciprocated Love, handjob, hannibal drinks something else besides wine, is it really?, it’s very subtle, more like he's in denial actually, subtle descriptions really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:55:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26814712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mushroomherb/pseuds/mushroomherb
Summary: “And if you need to, if you want to, use me. For whatever it is that you must do.” The words fall so easily from his lips.“You are a master of the art, anyway,” Hannibal continues.—Or where Will is left in denial after Hannibal confessed to him. Of his feelings. And he is one cruel little man.—a.k.a Hannibal Lecter’s ultimate kink: being used by Will Graham
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Kudos: 48





	snowflower

**Author's Note:**

> the title literally has nothing to do with the story, I'm just confused of what to choose and was listening to a song playlist of ‘moving on from someone who doesn’t love you back’, there was a song called Snow Flower and just went with that lol.
> 
> also the smut (not really smut for it is just two guys chillin on a kitchen counter) in this is subtle, probably very subtle, and short, kinda very short also I’m so sorry

It is a dark night and windy when he steps inside Hannibal’s grandiloquent house. The doctor is still in a crisp, jet black dress shirt that hugs his body perfectly, elegant and gentleman arm that just gestured for Will to come in a second earlier floats in the air. Will’s own appearance might as well be described as hobo-looking, juxtaposed to the doctor’s. But he cares very little.

He trots comfortably to pristine kitchen and perches himself on top of a bar stool, Hannibal’s footsteps following diligently into his lair, his figure stands in front of Will then, separated only with a row of neat kitchen counters.

Hannibal gets back to chopping whatever he has been chopping before and does not look up to his unexpected guest for a long time. For the guest himself also is just in a trance, probably pretty far away in that complicated brain of his, staring intently at strong, bare forearms of the doctor’s as they move so swiftly in a professional manner.

A deep sigh, what follows then is the unusually tiny voice of Will Graham, “Can I just watch you cook?”

Hannibal falters in his chopping for a second at that, actually does not expect such question. He sets aside the ingredients, put on the cutting board a pretty big Chinese cabbage _kimchi_ on it and cuts the stalk off, answering with a certainty to Will’s question, “Of course, Will.”

“Will you be uncomfortable with me being here?” the investigator asks again. _This_ , Hannibal knows the _meaning_ of. What answer Will is actually expecting, _what_ exactly Will is asking him about.

He sets a pot on top of the stove to cook the dish and pours a good amount of water, reaches just below three centimetres down the pot’s capacity, starts putting in the chopped vegetables and _kimchi_ inside. He looks back at Will then, “I will not be uncomfortable with you here,” he answered. Will’s eyes do not go away from his.

At the look the younger man gives him, Hannibal smiles a lopsided one as he covers the pot of _kimchi_ stew with the lid, “Surely by now you must know that.” That makes Will looks away. Almost ashamed, but mostly _shy_.

“What can I do for you, Will?” the doctor asks, arms supporting his whole body by the palms being settled on the counter. Attention fully on his companion now.

Will once again fixes his gaze against the doctor’s, eyebrows furrowing a little and he says, “I just need you,” there’s a flicker of _joy_ in dark eyes, just a flicker, not enough for Will to get lost to as he _actually_ likes it (not that he will ever admit it), “and don’t get me wrong, Dr. Lecter, don’t get my needing of you as something else,” _cruel, cruel man_.

Dr. Lecter again, after _Hannibal_. Sweet smiles into sour eyebrows, _Hannibal_ to Dr. Lecter, phone calls to only messages. What a _cruel, cruel_ man indeed.

Hannibal looks at him with no hate, even after being treated like _that_ , there’s no loathsome in his eyes as Will tortures him day by day after an honest truth spoken out in the open, no hostility towards the younger man when he _should have_ had some. Only the same _devotion_ like what was shown the night Will heard those words, snow falling heavily onto both mops of hair, slivers of cold seeping through their hearts. One is not from the temperature.

An exasperated sigh before the answer, Hannibal talks very gently and very soothing that Will’s eyes start glistening in the dim night, “Right now, you just take care of yourself, Will. My heart,” he pauses, leaning in closer just to see how far Will is going to back away, “my heart is mine to handle. Do not worry so much about it.”

Glisten turns into a pool. Lips quiver in _guilt_.

And even then Hannibal is not done talking.

There is a smile, a very _sincere_ one before he continues, “And if you need to, if you want to, use me. For whatever it is that you must do,” eyes downcast, a chuckle, Hannibal stirs the pot. The words fall so easily from his lips, they do not even sound like they are meant to corner Will, they do not sound like they are meant to put guilt into Will, it is as if the words are just a mere everyday fact, one that makes it look like Hannibal’s existence is made just for Will to use.

Emotionally or physically there is not really a difference. Hannibal _will_ provide him with both. For he has so clearly stated some few nights ago.

A war is still bloody in Will’s brain when Hannibal’s voice brings him back again, “You are a master of the art, anyway,” the doctor pauses again, fire in the stove small now that he turns it over to let the stew simmers a little longer, “Of using me. And I do not mind being used by you.”

It should not cut deeper than that, but Will’s heart feels like it’s being slashed bloody inside his chest as he sees the older man smiles again, it is sincere again. It is also an absolutely _painful_ smile that crushes his already gaping heart.

He can’t think of other things but, if his is bloody and gaping, what of Hannibal’s then?

The pair of pools in his eyes threatens to overflow when Hannibal leans back, body as straight as he always is, it suddenly feels like there is an ocean so wide between them.

The doctor opens the pot’s lid and stirs again, Will is still quiet when the room starts smelling fresh of garlic and spicy powder. He is quiet when the man of the house he’s barging into takes out two ceramic bowls from the cabinet. He is quiet when Hannibal asks him if he fancies a bowl of spicy _kimchi_ stew. He is quiet when Hannibal proceeds to still serve him a generous portion of steaming rice and the stew, even with Will’s silence.

He is not quiet, however, when Hannibal starts walking away, excuses himself of getting a bottle of _soju_ from the fridge.

“Alright. I will use you.”

Hannibal stops in his track. Broad expanse of his back to Will but it is not difficult to guess the expression worn on the doctor’s face. Eyebrows slightly up, lips tight, and that’s it. It looks like one of stoic origin for other people, it speaks _enough_ for Will.

Dark curls bob lightly as he stands up, making way to the other man with heavy cruelty for what he is about to do.

Hannibal’s gaze is already on his figure when Will looks up, standing just a foot away from him, every movement being tracked by dark eyes, sharp as an eagle’s. Will steps even closer, it is only a breath away from the doctor and he never feels more cold-blooded than he is now, reaching up with both hands to rest a palm on Hannibal’s left side of his chest, the other’s cradling fine-boned jaw in a manner he’s extremely unfamiliar with (one that he’s pleased with, for no one but him ever considered to be _good_ enough to be offered such a chance).

He can only feel cruelty again when he meets Hannibal’s lips with his own ( _a lot_ of other emotions as well, if Will is to be honest with himself). Growing heavier when Hannibal reciprocates not even a second after, with so much _admiration_ it makes Will want to revolt in fright of the sudden and uninvited flutters in his stomach.

But it is too late for he is already drowning in warm lips conveying so much against his own, for he is already _drunk_ with the way he is being held by strong, welcoming arms and brought even closer to rest almost all of his body weight on the doctor’s.

And so Will lets himself get lost. As Hannibal keeps kissing him and never letting go of his hold just to keep Will upright, as if he knows very well Will is going to fall down if he so lightly loosens his embrace. He does not even realise he has pulled the doctor with him until they run out of space and he’s against the counter. Does not realise when Hannibal’s hands sneak down to his thighs and the world comes back for some few seconds when the older man put him up with so much ease on the kitchen counter. Slightly taller, he stares down on tousled hair that looks dangerously attractive. Apparently said tousled hair is also a product of his wandering hands.

It is also then that Will realise the both of them breath so heavily, chests come together whenever they take lungful of air to calm erratic heart beats. His own hands are then perched gingerly on broad shoulders. A spike of _something_ is wild in his body when he scoots closer to the edge, Hannibal is comfortably caged between his legs. Will moves his hands ever so slowly down the doctor’s body. It does nothing to him, even when unsure fingers reach a stomach, which is a crime needs to be punished in Will’s book of law.

And so he slides even lower, metal clinks in the silent kitchen as he makes his way opening a belt buckle, almost to the clasp of expensive trousers when a hand stops him midway. It _does_ affect Hannibal, turns out. For he breathes even heavier, leans even closer to the space between Will’s shoulders and neck that’s slightly covered with dark curls.

He looks straight to Hannibal’s eyes for a search of an answer, finding himself asking, “Will you deny me, of anything I ask of you?”

Hannibal only looks at him.

“You said you will let me use you,” he says again, already working with the trousers again, zipper undone fast and easy, for Hannibal does not try to stop him again this time. Will whispers in his ear then, since he is cruel like that, “you said you will let me, Hannibal.”

Hannibal gives in.

Eyes closing for a moment before he looks up to his torturer, the dark pair still holds no remorse at all as he says, “I will never deny you of anything you ask of me.”

A shudder of breath when Will slides a hand inside, strokes ever so slowly with a gaze that’s never faltering from the doctor’s. He knows it is so _vile_ to inflict such _pain_ upon someone’s heart like what he is doing. He knows it is in the worst category of _cruel_ to let someone be turned into a _toy_ , one that Will is free to use whenever, however he likes. But Hannibal serves himself to him in a gold platter. So he takes what is offered to him.

Will trails wet kisses down the long expanse of Hannibal’s neck, hands working in an effective manner for it produces sounds that he never expected Hannibal to make, breathings going shorter, spine in a slight lurch as the doctor rests his forehead on Will’s own, the younger man’s kisses changed to his right ear and the sharp of his cheekbones. Dirty, _dirty_ words he whispers to Hannibal as his hand works slightly faster.

Hannibal comes in his hand a few moments later, with another shuddering breath blown right by the bridge of Will’s nose. He lets the older man take a few minute to compose himself as he rubs his free hand up and down the doctor’s tense arm, the other is still down, filthy and sticky and he strokes lazily with deft fingers. Kisses Hannibal on the lips once, twice, thrice, to let himself _taste,_ let himself get lost again in the splendid beauty that is Hannibal Lecter, for he is also coming undone even without Hannibal touching him back.

It should bother him that the doctor probably can smell his own aftermath.

Will feels a tiny but long kiss on his temple, Hannibal pulls back a little and he’s left with a feeling of _emptiness_ , so sudden it almost nauseates him.

It also should bother him that he never wants Hannibal to put his lips anywhere ever again but on his skin.

There’s a little distance between them now, Will does not like that one bit. Reaching inside Hannibal’s trousers pocket, he fishes out a handy handkerchief he knows the doctor always brings with him anywhere. Without guilt or doubt (but with a tinny hint of lingering arousal that he will never admit) he works his hands again, cleaning the mess he made on the soft fabric and on his own hand, Hannibal’s only staring at him before he gently stops Will.

“Alright, it’s alright. I will finish that myself,” he says, voice _annoyingly_ soft in the investigator’s ears.

Will frowns, and at that Hannibal explains, afraid his stopping the process is misread as something akin to him denying the younger man, “I’m afraid I will not be able to control myself if you touch me again like that, Will. Excuse me for a minute?” he asks.

Will does not know why it relieves him so much to hear that as an answer, not that he’s being denied.

He also does not know why the firm grip on his wrist feels so _warm_.

He has decided that he will _never_ return Hannibal’s feelings for him.

And so, to relieve himself of such _strange_ feelings, pulling back (reluctantly) is the only option he has, realises then that his legs are hooked together just shy below Hannibal’s behind, he also (reluctantly) let the hook off, Hannibal steps out of his reach and smiles before walking away towards his bathroom, leaving Will slightly dizzy and _considerably weak_ in the legs, thankful he is still on the counter for he does not trust his legs to be able to support him standing.

Hannibal comes back just a minute later, a clean towel draped over his arm, trousers neat and looks as if nothing happens to it at all. His floppy hair is still on the front of his forehead though, from Will’s fingers messing with it, and Will _thanks_ all the Gods above for the look is more than _suitable_ on Hannibal.

The doctor takes one deep breath before walking closer to the younger man, there’s no mocking in his steps, no mocking in his eyes, no mocking in each of his body language when he catches the sight of Will still on top of the counter. Although Will knows very well that Hannibal knows why he is still there.

Instead, his doctor fits himself in between his legs again, towel moves smoothly across his forehead, it does not ever reach down.

“You’re sweating a little,” Hannibal explains. Will does not even realise he is sweating.

The towel is then being offered in front of his body, Will takes it. That leaves the strong arm of the doctor’s that is still in the air, palms up. Will also takes said hand. Leaning in to Hannibal’s side as he stands, a free hand finds its place on the small of his back, guiding him to the dinner table. He takes a seat to the left of Hannibal’s. The man in question leaves for a moment to retrieve their dinner.

Rice is no more steaming but still warm. So is the stew.

They are much less warm than Hannibal’s smile though, one being given to Will just before the both of them take spoonful of food into their mouths.

It should also bother him that he finds himself so _fond_ of that smile.

**Author's Note:**

> this story is inspired from a Korean drama called Hyena, it's a great watch if you like something with strong and badass female protagonist.
> 
> there’s gonna be continuation to this, probably two or three more, I hope I can finish writing them quick enough.
> 
> thank you for reading, have a great day 💕


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